Resident Evil: The Arklay Mountain Incident
by BioHazardSurvivor
Summary: 1998. The year that everything had gone wrong. The disappearance of Bravo Team had been the catalyst towards the destruction that would ultimately consume thousands of lives. A novelization of the first game. Updated frequently.
1. Preword

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

The following is a fan novelization of the very first game in the Resident Evil series of video games. This novelization is intended to follow the game as closely as possible without becoming overtly boring; however in order to do, it was necessary to overlook several rooms and a majority of the puzzles I also plan on making this as canon to the RE universe, which will result in several large differences than what is presented in the game. That being said, both Barry and Rebecca will be present in Chris' travels through the mansion, as both are confirmed to have survived; something that is not possible in the game. I had previously attempted to do another novelization for the first game on here using a different pen name, and the same title. Editing for mistakes, etc will occur on Fridays and during weekends.

_I will also be adding several new rooms to the mansion's layout, as well as new documents/files. These will blend in perfectly with the Resident Evil universe._

_**EDIT (8/21/2013): As of this edit, this story has reached the eyes of about 260 different people from twenty different countries!  
Way to go, guys! Keep on reading, and review!**_

* * *

**_(Taken from The Raccoon Press, dated June 16__th__, 1998)_**

_**FOURTH ANIMAL MAULING VICTIM DISCOVERED!**_

_RACCOON CITY – In what appears to be a series of recent animal mauling, a fourth victim has been discovered in Hyde Park in Raccoon City. The remains have been taken in by police officials, and attempts are underway as to uncovering the identity of the victim. It is believed that the cause of death was some sort of medium-sized animal, perhaps a rabid dog or wolf. The RPD are being quiet on the matter, revealing very little in terms of details, but have released a report stating that the number of bite marks on the corpse reveals four to five different sets of teeth; it is believed that a pack of feral dogs is roaming the outside limits of Raccoon City, and the outlying area. The regional natural resources office has released a warning for all hikers and campers in the area. _

**_(A Warning from the Raccoon City Natural Resource Office)_**

_**A PUBLIC SAFETY NOTICE**_

_Due to recent events, resulting in the death of four persons within the outer limits of Raccoon City, the RPD as well as the RCNM will be issuing warnings and fines to anyone caught in the affected areas. It is advised that all residents of Raccoon City avoid the Arklay Mountain region for the time being. With the co-operation of the RPD, the road leading up towards Arklay Mountain will be closed. This is to prevent any sort of public disturbance with the ongoing investigations with S.T.A.R.S and the RPD search and rescue. Thank you for your co-operation._

"_**THE WOODS ARE ALIVE!"**_

_-Graffiti, Raccoon City- _


	2. In The Shadows and Through the Trees

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

* * *

**Chapter One – In the Shadows and Through the Trees**

The city was nothing more than a meager blur of a hundred thousand lights in the shadow of the mountain, and the vast spread of primeval forest that dominates the surrounding area. The helicopter was dwarfed, a small vessel of black in an all-consuming darkness that was the Arklay Mountains. It fought hard against the rain and the clouds, swaying to the whim of the wind, a deep thoughtful silence between it's passengers.

Chris Redfield, sat strapped to his seat, glaring out the door towards the spread of trees below. He felt a hand sheepishly crawl into his, and peered over to his side to find Jill Valentine nervously sitting tense in her seat; eyes closed and teeth grinding through closed lips. The occasional groan of airsickness escaped from her throat, sounding like the guttural croak of a garden toad. In a normal situation, Chris would've busted her balls for holding his hand, but the current situation was far from normal. He wasn't the one to shatter the silence.

That had been Jill.

She managed to peel her eyes open, and glared out the door just in time for the helicopter to do a tight turn to reveal a plume of smoke rising out from a cluster of pines. She leaned over Chris, trembling from air sickness and pointed at the sight.

"Look, Chris!" she exclaimed.

All eyes went towards the smoke, and the helicopter immediately went into a tight landing process; the vehicle giving off several hard shakes as if the entire thing was about to collapse violently out of the air at any given moment. Chris grabbed for his seat's handle and braced for the landing, thankful that it was Brad who was piloting the bird. The landing had been soft and easy, in a small clearing where the grass had grown tall and unhindered by the footsteps of man.

Alpha team gathered in a semi-circle around Wesker, who stood with a bold posture amidst the grass; his face was a cold stone mask peering out from behind a pair of sunglasses that hid his small commanding eyes.

"Listen up, Alpha!" His voice was booming, reverberating in the darkness. His words were followed by a gust of frost from his lips, making Chris realize just how cold it really was out here.

"We are here to find Bravo Team, remember that! Given the recent events, I am authorizing the usage of live ammo. Load up and make your shots count..."

No one dared to defy what had been said, and immediately all of Alpha team had taken to their holsters. The sound of fresh magazines into handguns, and rifles shattered the silence in the clearing. Chris raised his handgun – a Beretta 92F Custom – and slid a clip into the magazine slot. Cocking the slide back, he exchanged a silent glance at Jill, who immediately took the lead and together they began to travel forwards through the thicket as a duo.

Overhead, a storm was churning in the overcast.

**xxx**

The forest had taken on a sinister aura in the dim twilight of the incoming night through the thick canopy above. The woods played tricks on the eyes, as the large thin trunks of the ancient pines danced across the forest floor; the whole place looked alive and moving. A cruel breeze rolled by, wailing slightly and carrying what rain had managed to slip through the treetops.

What was left of the helicopter was crumpled and leaning against a cluster of black oak, a circle of footsteps disturbed the surrounding area. Joseph Frost had been the first of Alpha team to find the wrecked helicopter.

And what remained of Kevin Dooley, Bravo Team's pilot.

Chris had approached the pilot's door when Joseph had run off to vomit somewhere off in the brush, and had switched his flashlight on. What he could see through the blood and viscera was haunting. Dooley's body had been mauled into a near unidentifiable mess of pulp. His face had been ripped off, and wore what remained of his throat as a very crude necktie.

Chris turned away from the scene.

"I don't understand..." he murmured, "Why did they abandon the wreck and Dooley?"

"I don't know..." Jill uttered, crouching down to examine the footsteps in the mud.

"By the looks of it, they left in a hurry."

The sudden movement coming from the bushes had upset Joseph, who had snapped his shotgun upright at the sound and pumped it, feeding a new shell into the chamber. A figure stumbled through the brush, and approached Joseph. Barry Burton, and his beast of a magnum.

"Christ, kid." he growled, patting the shotgun barrel out of his way. "Watch where you point that thing."

He took a spot next to Jill, and cocked his head.

"Hey, guys...animal tracks." he said gesturing towards the dirt. A set of about six or seven animal tracks sporadically dotted the ground around the wreck. Chris had almost instantly recognized them.

"Dogs..." he uttered out loud, "We got dogs out here. Big ones too."

"You mean the papers got it right?!" Joseph laughed nervously, "Shit, we can take on a few dogs, can't we?"

Chris added in a few nervous laughs before he remarked.

"Yeah, but dogs can't take down helicopters, Joseph."

Silence. The sound of rain softly pelting the canopy, and the soft rumbling of distant thunder. The air around the wreck was stagnant, and cold; a dense fog had rolled in and Chris wanted nothing more than to be back in the station. Back in Raccoon City, and back in the light; as far as away as he could get from this place.

The thud of whatever fell from the brush had nearly made all of them jump.

Joseph swiftly pivoted to the bush, and moved forward; his shotgun visibly shaking in his trembling hands. He stopped a few feet in front of the brush, and bent down. He grabbed something deep in the tall grass, and raised it in the light.

A custom-made Beretta 92F – a Bravo team member's – with the hand of it's former owner still clinging to it in a dead vice-grip.

"Uh, guys. We have a pro-"

Joseph's words were immediately cut off when a black blur had tackled him to the ground, followed by at least three others. His words dissolved into screams as the creatures tore at his flesh, taking in mouthfuls of muscle and gore. Chris had snapped into action, and fired off four shots at the beasts before being deafened by the massive concussive blasts coming from Barry's magnum. Several dogs had fallen from fatal shots to the chest, only to awkwardly scramble back onto stable legs despite the state of their wounds. Only the magnum shots had taken down a few.

A large Rottweiler had lunged for Jill, but had been dispatched when she kicked it to the ground, and pinned it with her foot. She fired three shots into it's chest before her eyes widened in disbelief; the dog was still alive and furiously snapping at her ankle as if the bullets that had riddled it's ribcage were mere pebbles.

"You have got to be kidding..." she croaked, before unloading an extra three rounds into the dog's head.

Remarkably, the creature had fallen limp and stayed dead in a pool of it's own congealed blood. Another dog had attacked Chris, biting down hard on the hand that held his pistol, and wringing it hard to the side. He let out a roar of pain, and felt his fingers curl around the trigger.

He fired a shot from inside the dog's foul mouth, reducing it's head to an open crevice. His hand had been jarred away from the dead dog's skull, the force of which had caused his hand to slip off from his pistol. His Beretta had fallen somewhere inside the wrecked helicopter, where it fell into the darkness.

Another set of gunshots rung out from the brush, revealing Wesker who calmly disposed of three dogs with several well-aimed rounds.

"Get back to the helicopter! We are leaving!" he roared.

Slowly through the chaos in the forest, Alpha team moved towards the clearing where they were treated to the sight of the helicopter hovering over a group of hell hounds, Brad's pale terror-stricken face clearly visible in the pilot seat. Within the span of seconds, the chopper was gone, disappearing over the treetops and out of sight.

"Wait, don't go!" Chris screamed. A futile attempt, but his desperation had boiled over.

"Over here!" Wesker barked, sprinting past him in a mad dash, "There's a road up ahead!"

Chris' lungs burned, and his feet screamed in protest as he joined his teammates in a blind rush through the woods towards a small trail that led seemingly nowhere. Gunfire went off like firecrackers all around, and the world was reduced to a single confusing blur. At the end of the road loomed a mansion. Dark and vast, it seemed surreal, like a sight from the depths of a nightmare.

"Into that house!" Wesker frantically ordered, his voice barely audible over Barry's magnum.

The squad stormed the front doors, crashing them open with a fierce energy. The dogs followed suit, charging head on. Jill, quick with reflexes, delivered a straight kick for the door sealing them shut. From outside, the dogs slammed against the heavy-set doors and growled in defeat.

His legs exhausted, Chris nearly fell onto the carpet in the front hall, catching himself with two weak arms. His breath came in long, droning pants and his lungs were aflame with a dull burning ache. A silence overcame the group, Chris recovered and stood upright; he glared across the front hall.

"So...where's the welcoming party...?" Barry hissed, his sentence punctuated by a single clash of thunder outside the manor.

A hard rain begun, and the house moaned with the incoming storm.


	3. The Welcoming Party

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

* * *

**Chapter Two – The Welcoming Party**

The clash of thunder outside the mansion flashed forth the patterns on the stain-glass windows above the double doors, briefly creating long grotesque shadows amongst the figures of what remained of the S.T.A.R.S members.

Chris had straightened himself up on two stable legs, and spread his attention across the front hall. The floor was hard stone polished to a mirror's sheen, and the walls were adorned with an ornate wallpaper. Few expensive artworks hung on the walls, crooked in their frames; several were aging horribly and chipping away revealing the yellowing canvas behind the paint.

"What's the plan, Wesker?" Chris remarked.

"The mission still stands. We find what's left of Bravo team, and secure an escape route." Wesker replied, reloading his pistol with a fresh clip. He pocketed the empty.

"Sounds good." Barry added, "But this house looks huge, we better split up and comb through for the survivors."

"Agreed. Chris, you go with Barry. Jill, you're with me."

Chris nodded, feeling his stomach knot. He felt uneasy about splitting the group up, especially after what just happened, however he held no control over what Wesker said. His words were law. With that said, Chris unsheathed his combat knife and followed his orders.

**xxx**

The two men had ventured off into a dining room that branched off from the front hall. The room was oblong with a grand dining table centered within it's walls. A generally unpleasant smell hung thick in the air, as half-eaten food sat rotting on plates. The surface of the table was covered in a sticky concoction of rotting food and spilled drinks. Off to the side, an elegant grandfather clock clicked patiently, warding off a dreadful silence. Someone had recently lit a fire in the hearth at the far end of the room, casting a brilliant light that caused the shadows of the room to dance.

...which had caused Chris peer upwards.

"Barry..." he murmured in disbelief, gesturing to the chandelier.

A corpse hung from a noose, high above the table. The man's face was twisted in an expression that Chris could only describe as being sorrowful. From where he stood, Chris could read the sign that the man had left for them to read:

_**Forgive us**_

"There is seriously something wrong here..." Barry uttered, "There's another body here."

A woman sat hunched on the floor at the very end of the table, a pistol still clasped in a hand. She had attempted to amputate an arm via a cleaver, but had failed to secure the bleeding wound; instead she committed suicide via a self-inflicted wound at the back of the throat.

"Christ..." Chris growled, bending down to examine her closer. He took the magazine that remained in the pistol, and began to check her pockets. What struck Chris as strange was the fact that she wore the garbs of a doctor, a white lab coat but wore no visible ID card.

"How long do you think she's been dead?" Barry questioned, gently moving her head to the side with the barrel of his magnum. Her head hesitantly moved, cracking the stiffness of rigor mortis from her neck.

"A few days, perhaps."

The sounds of movement on an upper level had made both men shift their focus. Both were quick enough to view someone fall from the upper balcony onto the table in a crash that rivaled the thunder outside.

"What the hell?!"

Barry's outburst was overwhelmed by the figure's moan of pain. The figure had sustained several gruesome injuries from the fall, but still managed to crawl off the surface of the table. Barry had begun to approach the man but Chris had stopped him with a cautious warning.

"Barry, stop!" he exclaimed, "There's something wrong with him..."

A choked gurgle came from Chris' side, and his eyes widened in bewilderment as the woman seemingly came back to life before his very eyes. She fell to her side, and gagged out a wad of blood and phlegm onto the tiled flooring before unleashing a whimpering moan. She reached out for Chris' ankle. Instinctively, Chris took a step back and got into a combat pose.

"There is no way..." he uttered, "That's impossible!"

The woman rose to two feet, and moaned; revealing the inside of her mouth. Charred black from the expansion of gases that had previously exploded in her mouth when her pistol had gone off. Chris could even see the other side of the room through the back of her throat.

She grabbed him, and pulled herself towards him; her moans becoming snarls. He could feel himself shiver under her cold touch.

In a combination of horror and instinctive survival, Chris had swiftly delivered his knife into the woman's left eye socket where it had sliced through the eye and into the skull. She moaned, and continued to pull herself towards him, completely clueless to the pain that the wound would've brought.

With a handful of her hair, Chris brought the woman to the floor with a brutal pull. She sprawled across the tiled floor, with Chris standing above her. Retracting his blade from her skull, he delivered a forceful stomp to her face, and repeatedly did so until she stopped squirming.

Panting, he turned his focus to Barry who had been in a fight with the other figure. Barry held his attacker off and brought his magnum up to the man's lower jaw before blasting a round off. The top of the man's head disappeared in a flash of light and gore, his body fell limp to the tile.

Both men exchanged glances.

"They won't die..." Barry panted, quickly reloading his magnum with fresh rounds.

"...unless you hit the head." Chris finished for him.

"We have to tell Wesker, Chris." Barry panted, "This is insane..."

**xxx**

The hall was empty. Neither Wesker nor Jill were in sight. A nervous build up of fear boiled within Chris, and he anxiously paced up and down the hall; his eyes examining every square inch of the hall.

"Jill!" he roared, "Wesker!"

His only answer was his own voice echoing in the emptiness of the hall.

"They're gone, Chris." Barry said, his voice hollow; almost with a tone of defeat.

"How?!" Chris burst, "How is that possible?!"

"Maybe, they were attacked?"

"There's no signs of a fight here, Barry...no blood, no bodies. We didn't even hear any shots."

"Well, there's this." Barry replied, picking up a pistol from the floor, "It's Jill's."

The handgun was indeed Jill's. Yet another custom-made Beretta bearing the S.T.A.R.S emblem, however it differed from Chris'. Chris had his pistol be designed with a polished dark carbon-steel frame, Jill had her's customized with an inoxidizable stainless steel frame. Her variant on the Beretta featured a different set of boring in the barrel, designed for a slower more precise act of firing.

Chris took in his hands, and checked the magazine, finding that no shots had been fired recently. He confirmed this with a quick smell of the chamber; no fresh gun powder residue.

"Whatever happened to her, it was quick. She didn't even get to fire a shot."

"No blood either." Barry added, "She may still be alive, Chris."

He nodded taking in the words, and primed Jill's pistol.

"Alright, we'll continue to comb through the mansion, and try to find anyone still alive." Chris said, "Try to stay close. I don't want you to disappear on me, too."

The duo had ventured into a small art galley off the side of front hall, they paid little attention to the artwork. Pieces of rather graphic art hung from ornate frames in circles of illuminating light. Witch hunts, the branding of heretics, even the quartering of a priest were subjects in the artworks. The subject matter was disturbing and surreal. Chris tried to pry his eyes from the walls, and on the marble floor instead.

"Christ, man." Barry groaned, "Whoever owned this place was a sick bastard."

"Tell me about it."

Barry paused, raising his head slightly and gestured to Chris to stop.

"Listen!" he hissed.

Chris honed his focus on any sort of sound, and heard what sounded like a female voice speaking through the walls of the gallery. The words, however, were muffled and unclear.

"It's Jill!" Chris exclaimed, rushing to a door at the far end of the gallery; Barry followed suit.

They followed a window-lined corridor until they came across another figure. A young woman, armed with a pistol; raising in a threatening manner.

"Freeze!" she screamed, "S.T.A.R.S Bravo team! Don't come any closer!"

Chris rose a hand, gesturing for her to lower her weapon.

"Whoa, whoa!" he exclaimed, "We're from Alpha team!"

She hesitated, but ultimately lowered her weapon. The woman was rather young, no more than twenty-one. She wore the uniform of Bravo's combat medic.

"Oh..." she uttered, "Oh, thank god."

"Where's the rest of Bravo?" Barry said, "Are you the last one alive?"

The girl seemed to sink in her boots, she lowered her head and nodded.

"Yeah, I believe so." she muttered, "I haven't seen anyone else in a while."

Chris turned to the window, having caught a flash of motion outside. Barry traced his line of sight, and was immediately pinned to the wall as a heavily-scarred German Shepard leaped through the pane of glass. Both the dog and Barry fought, crashing into several glass displays, and stumbled down the corridor and around the corner.

Several other dogs also joined in the fight, leaping through nearly all the windows in this small, cramped corridor. Chris had taken Rebecca by the collar and nearly dragged her. Fighting in this hallway was too dangerous, the lack of space made movement tight. Barry's magnum roared out, illuminating the hallway in flashes of brilliant light.

Taking shelter from behind the next door, Chris and the young woman barricaded the door with a small curio display.

"Do you know how to use that gun..." Chris whispered, his eyes never drifting from the door; hand on his pistol.

"Yes, I've used it before." the young girl replied.

"...by the way, what your name?"

"Rebecca Chambers."


	4. Cross Contamination

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

* * *

**Chapter Three – Cross Contamination**

_AN: Just as a heads up, this chapter introduces a new area added onto the original mansion layout, as well as a few new files. Tell me what you think in a review!_

* * *

The last sounds from behind the door had died down several seconds after the door had been sealed, leaving both Chris and Rebecca in a thick blanket of calm. Relative calm.

"Do you think your friend made it?" Rebecca said, opening her medic pack. Inside was an assortment of medical tools and supplies. She took Chris' right forearm and examined the scratches in his skin. She worked with a swift professional touch, and tended to his wounds.

"Barry?" Chris replied, "Oh yeah, he has his buddy system with him."

"Oh?"

"The magnum. Miranda, he calls it." Chris smirked.

"I suggest we keep moving, sir." Rebecca murmured, "We can't stay here with whatever is moving around in these hallways."

"Agreed." Chris replied, "Call me Chris, Rebecca. No need for formalities, now."

**xxx**

They had entered through a glass door nearby, and had discovered what appeared to be a large conservatory filled with a wonderment of plant-life that adorned every square inch of space inside the glass structure.

Rebecca seemed troubled.

"I've studied several plants native to this region, but I have never seen any like these..." she gasped, taking a closer examination at what appeared to be an over-grown ivy.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, flowers like these don't grow this large." Rebecca replied, "Nor do they grow such aggressive defensive measures."

She crouched down and gestured at a trail of sap leaking from the mouth of the flower's bloom. Faintly dark yellow and as thick as syrup, the sap contained dozens of small drowned ant corpses.

"Ivy doesn't produce sap, Chris." Rebecca murmured, "I think these plants have been engineered on a genetic scale."

"So, we've stumbled onto the house of some sick botanist with a degree in genetics?" Chris nervously chuckled, feeling his face grow hot from the humid heat.

"No..." Rebecca sighed, "Plants should be the least of our problems now. We need to find a way out of here."

"What about in that office?"

Chris gestured towards a small structure protruding from the conservatory wall, dimly lit by an office lamp and slowly being consumed by the mass of plant life surrounding it. Attempting to open it, revealed that the door had been locked.

"Stand back." Chris warned, before delivering a hard kick to the lock which shattered quite easily.

The inside was a mess, covered in a mess of papers and folders. An abandoned computer monitor showed no signs of life, and a pot of coffee still sitting in it's holster in a coffee maker; ice cold since the last time anyone drank from it.

Rebecca quickly investigated the sheets, reading several data charts and made sense of the clutter. Chris merely examined the roots and grass that had begun to slowly creep it's way through the floorboards and the ceiling.

"Here's something," Rebecca said, handing a sheet of paper over to Chris. "A report of some sort."

* * *

**An Examination of Plant-life Interaction With The T-Agent  
**

_In recent weeks, it has come to my attention that the plants kept within the conservatory are showing signs of extreme growth as well as other symptoms that are similar to what occurs with exposure to the T-Agent. As a result, the R&D team is extremely interested with this opportunity. _

_Curiously, there appears to be a single case where the T-Agent has shown great progression. A corpse flower__ kept within the walls of the conservatory has shown vast growth, and even signs of intelligence. Most interesting is the growth of teethed suckers and ivy that moves similar to the tentacles of a giant squid. We are to believe that the plant is in fact evolving at a faster rate than anything currently living on earth, and is in fact becoming the first sentient carnivorous plant-based life form. _

_Of course, this comes with the usual news after such a discovery. A researcher was recently admitted to the infirmary after the plant had allegedly grasp his left forearm and had proceeded to consume several large pieces of his arm. He will no doubt need to be disposed of, but R&D is absolutely fascinated with the plant, and have suggested that we begin to feed the plant using meat. _

_Another disturbing discovery is that the plant seems to be capable of limited movement; having grown towards the direction of the air shaft. It seems to prefer the colder, much damper air coming from Point 42. I have given orders to ward it's growth away from the air grates._

_-Jack Namara, Chief Botanist- _

_(The rest is charts and graphs pertaining to the plant growth.)_

* * *

"What the hell was going on out here?!" Chris hissed, as he finished combing through the report.

"Looks like some sort of genetic engineering project." Rebecca replied, "The charts here analyse several enzyme clusters within the affected plant cells."

"A project of this size would require millions of dollars," Rebecca added, "...and the sheer ethics of the reported experiments are border-line illegal."

"Are you saying that we are standing in the middle of some sort of chemical weapon mishap?"

"It seems that way, Chris." Rebecca said, placing a clipboard down on a ivy covered computer desk.

"Great...we are _way_ over our heads here..." He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose in order to fight off the incoming waves of a headache. A dull ache pulsated small daggers of hot searing pain behind his sore eyes; he gritted his teeth and bore the pain.

Venturing deeper into the conservatory, the two discovered that the structure ended with a elegant colored-glass rotunda with a fountain centered within. The architecture of the mansion had a strange sort of comfortable closeness to it, despite the fact that it's halls were littered with the dead.

"Strange, really..."

"What was that?" Chris murmured to Rebecca.

"This house doesn't exist on any documents I've seen." She replied, "I imagine it's quite difficult to build a manor of such magnitude without someone noticing, even it is built in a forest."

"What are you saying, Rebecca?"

"Just that there's something going on here, something that goes beyond all that we've seen so far. We're not seeing the big picture, at least not yet."

Chris took in her words, and murmured an agreement. He did feel a sense of dread, but also an underlying sense that there was more than what laid on the surface here.

Looking out through the glass walls of the Conservatory, Chris could see what appeared to be a walled-in garden area. By opening a set of french doors, he stepped out into the frigid night air and glared down the cobblestone paths. The trees here grew strong and branched out over head, while wildflowers grew in firm clusters. Littering the garden were various statues of angels, and water nymphs; ominous in the dim glow of the moonlight.

"There looks to be a shed over there..." Chris said, pointing towards a small wooden structure built at the very end of the garden. A weak, flickering light glowed from the other side of a window. Entering, the two S.T.A.R.S members were subjected to a cramped, yet comfortable cabin where someone had personally lived.

However, the cabin seemed to be in a state of decay, as the bed sheets hadn't been made or even touched in what may have been weeks. Given the piles of bagged fertilizer by the door and the meager supply of gardening tools that hung off a side wall, Chris clued in that this had to be the groundskeeper's shack. His eyes went to the small writing desk where a lantern glowed with the last of it's oil; a map and a small shredded piece of paper laid in plain sight.

Taking the map, Chris examined it and realized it was an outline of the mansion and marked with the groundskeeper's own personalized touch. Rooms where supplies were kept, even scribbles about several details in certain rooms. The paper had been a torn page from his journal.

* * *

**Groundskeeper's**** Diary – Torn Page**

_Only a few of us left now. The others are dead. I don't know why I didn't leave when I had the chance, but now it seems pointless. Christine's been infected with it, and is burning up fast. The surviving researchers are fighting amongst themselves about pointless things, and are wasting what time we have left, instead of using it to find ourselves a way out of here. _

_Every hour that passes I can feel my skin itch. I know I'm not infected, but the dread is still there. I can't help but see Christine as a threat to the group. If she turns, we're all dead. I'll have to do something about that. I have to, even if I don't like what I'm about to do. _

_If by any chance you are the last of the researchers to read this and still have the willpower to live, we've left the access key to the dorms on the wall next to the desk. _

_-David -_

* * *

Chris glanced at a key hanging from a sole nail in the wall, and grabbed it. He immediately pocketed it, and turned to Rebecca.

"There's still people alive here," Chris remarked, "They've headed towards the dormitory."

He turned to the map and examined the corridors of the mansion, starting from the main hall. Eventually, he found a small passage that ended near the edge of the map with a small arrow marked, "To Dorms".

"We need get over there, but there are still rooms in the house we haven't entered yet." Chris added.

"We also haven't found Bravo Team, yet." Rebecca murmured.

"So, the plan is to locate Bravo, investigate the mansion further, and locate the other survivors in the dorms?" Chris said.

"Sounds good to me."

"Alright, let's go. Better not stay here too long."

Chris primed his handgun with a quick pump of the slide and fed a new bullet into the chamber before the two returned to the mansion. The rain had gained strength and now actively pelted the windows like pebbles to glass.


	5. What Remains Must Fester and Rot

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

* * *

**Chapter Four – What Remains Must Fester and Rot**

"Careful..." whispered Rebecca, as Chris traversed the narrow corridor, and around the corner. The hallway was almost unbearably cramped, and the strange ornate green wallpaper made the hallway seem to stretch before his eyes. The two S.T.A.R.S members passed by several expensive pieces of wall art, without even prying their eyes off the floor ahead; a cold sweat had broken out on Chris' brow.

"Clear." Chris signaled, easing his posture as they came to the end of the corridor. A set of double doors separated the two from yet another narrow hallway. Opening it, revealing a set of three figures looming in and out of the darkness; they snarled and approached the two as soon as they came into sight.

Chris felt himself tense and go into his usual combative stance, and let loose a few rounds. He pelted one of the creatures in the shoulder with a stray round before striking it in the head; above the left eye. It went down, with it's friends stepping over it as they charged at the two S.T.A.R.S members. Rebecca had stumbled, paused in mid-action and hesitated with her finger on the trigger. By the time, she had decided to fire, she felt a pair of dead-cold hands grasp her shoulder and pull her in. She screamed.

"Rebecca!" Chris exclaimed, delivering a fatal blow to the creature that grabbed her, stabbing the full blade of his combat knife through it's skull, before getting grabbed himself. With a roar, Chris swung an elbow backwards, striking his attacker in the face and pinning him against the wall. The creature defended itself rather well, grabbing the arm that held the combat knife at bay, while pulling itself in to take a large chunk out of Chris' neck. In a brief moment, Chris felt his fear flutter and he realized his strength was rapidly dissolving, the creature was overwhelming him.

The gunshot was deafening, causing an loud droning ring in Chris' ears. The creature's face had been mere inches away from Chris', and in a split second the creature had been blown back with a good part of it's head now pasted over the wallpaper. Chris turned, and saw Rebecca holding her handgun, a trail of smoke rising from the barrel, her eyes widen with disbelief. A few droplets of blood had sprinkled onto her youthful cheeks.

"Rebecca?" Chris said, ignoring the pain in his ears, he took to her side. He eased her arms down by cupping his hands over hers, and embraced her gently. He felt her tremble in his arms.

"Rebecca..." he whispered, "It's alright..."

She cried, broke down into choked sobs.

"I just killed a man, Chris!" she exclaimed, the battle against her tears had been lost. Her cheeks had turn on an angry red glow under the thin veil of tears.

"It's not human anymore." He sighed, "I don't think there's anything left in them to be human."

He removed himself from her hug, and held her at distance.

"Listen, Rebecca." he whispered, "I need you to stay strong. I know what you're feeling, but I can't have you go soft on me. Not now." He spoke with a soft tone to his voice, it made him want to shudder with it's vague familiarity. He spoke as if Rebecca were his sister. She wiped away the tears, and hid her eyes. She nodded silently, and let Chris lead.

** xxx**

Entering through a door to the side, they found themselves at the bottom step in a set of stairs that ascended to the mansion's second level. They climbed the steps with light feet as not to disturb anything that lied in wait for them. They moved with a gentle, but swift movement; ready for anything.

Entering a side door, they found themselves in a small room filled with an arrangement of preserved insects in glass frames. Inside, Chris had found an old friend waiting.

"Barry?" he gasped, his tone was in relief rather than surprise.

"Yeah," Barry replied, "Can't say the same about this guy."

He moved to the side, revealing the corpse of a man sitting in a small office chair. A fair portion of the man's head was gone, with a shotgun laying in between his thighs. A researcher by the looks of it.

"He wrote something before he did...this..." Barry uttered, "I think you should take a look at it."

* * *

**Researcher's Will **

_My dear Alma,_

_The fact that you received this letter is both joy and a sadness to me. I could not even talk to you because of that guy in the Sunglasses. Alma, be calm and read this._

_I think I've told you that I moved to a pharmaceutical company's lab. They headhunted me. Last month, there was an accident in the lab and the virus we were studying escaped._

_All my colleagues who were infected by the virus are dead. To be accurate, they've become the living dead. They still wander around. Some of them are knocking on my room door desperately right now. But there's no sign of intelligence in their eyes._

_That cursed virus robs all humanity from the human brain. Love, joy, sorrow, fear, humor... eternally._

_And Alma, even the memories of the days I spent with you..._

_Yes, I'm infected. I did everything I could, but I could only delay the progress by a few days. The most frightening thing is, that I forget more about you by the day._

_So I chose a peaceful death, rather than becoming the living dead._

_Within an hour, I will have entered my eternal sleep. I do hope you'll understand my decision..._

_Good Bye and Forever Yours,_

_Martin Crackhorn_

* * *

"A virus?" Chris whispered, he turned to Rebecca who skimmed over the letter before pondering on it herself.

"So, I was right." she murmured to herself, "A viral outbreak."

"Do you think we're all infected?" Barry commented, scratching at his facial hair with his anxiety clearly showing.

"No..." Rebecca replied coldly, "For what I've seen, the virus is transmitted via exchange of fluids. Bites, large scratches, and presumably injections. I don't believe it's airborne."

Silence.

"So, Chris...have you found anyone else from Bravo Team yet?"

"No, not yet."

More silence.

"Well, I'll go on ahead and search the house for more clues. In the meantime, you guys should find a way out of here." Barry remarked.

"What?" Chris said, "We've only just caught up to each other and now you want to split up?"

A smirk appeared on Barry's face, and he placed a firm hand on Chris' shoulder before commenting.

"Don't worry, Chris." he spoke, "We go back a long way. You know full well what I can do. Besides, I have this..."

A flash of Miranda and he was heading out, however he paused halfway through the door and turned back.

"By the way, I found this on his desk. Maybe you can find some use in it." A light toss in the air, and Chris caught something small and made of stone. A small hexagonal tablet that bore the symbol for a star. Chris meant to comment to Barry, however he swallowed his words when he realized he had already left.

"Barry seems a little off." Rebecca said, "...but it could be fatigue and stress bearing down on him."

"Yeah," Chris added, "He has a family back in Raccoon. I imagine he wants nothing to do with this place, right now."

"Oh, a family?" Rebecca whispered, "Do you have any family back in the city?"

"Not in town..." Chris uttered, "...but I do have a sister. Claire. Haven't seen her in years, though."

"Family issues?" Rebecca questioned.

"Not really." Chris replied, "I joined the military when I was 17, and worked my work into the air force. I was young, and naïve. A real hard ass."

A smile of nostalgia curled the corners of his lips in remembrance.

"I was twenty-three when I was discharged. I was told that I was troublesome, and problematic with my supervisors." Chris continued, "From there, I drifted to Raccoon where Barry had placed a recommendation in my name for S.T.A.R.S."

"You and Barry are close, aren't you?"

"You could say that. We've been teammates since our Air Force days. I'd trusted that man with my life, and have done so before."

A sigh.

"Anyway, I drifted away from my family after I joined. The last time I heard from my sister was five years ago."

"Do you miss her?"

"Sometimes." Chris said, "I wonder about her. She's most likely all grown up by now."

He smiled again, before he realized he was being nostalgic again. His grin was mirrored by Rebecca, who seemed to enjoy seeing him smile. In a way, Chris felt something about Rebecca, a startling similarity with his sister. He realized that they had to be close in age.

"Anyway..." Chris said, clearing his throat, "We need to keep moving."

He approached the corpse, and gingerly removed the shotgun from the man's grasp. He raised it to his eye level and examined the weapon. It had been used only a few times in it's lifetime. The researcher had filled it with a sufficient supply of shells – using only one – and had left a small cluster of unused shells on the desk.  
Quickly pocketing the shells, Chris pumped the ammo feed and chambered a shell.

"Alright, let's find Bravo Team."


	6. Goodbyes To Old Friends

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**

* * *

**Chapter Five – Goodbyes To Old Friends**

When the door into the small L-shaped passage opened, the last thing that Chris had imagined laid in the corner in clear view of the door.

A man.

Broken and blanketed in a thin covering of his own blood. Chris had almost immediately recognized him despite the man's wounds. The sight of him nearly made Chris' legs give out.

"Richard..." he moaned, taking to the dying man's side. His hands hovered over the various gaping wounds that littered the man's body, too nervous to actually apply pressure. Instead, Chris turned to Rebecca and searched in her eyes for the answer. The young medic took a deep breath and searched through her mind back to her days in university.

"Richard." she said, gently caressing his face, "You're going to be alright. I got this, but I need to know what caused this."

He turned to face her and smiled, before coughing up a wad of phlegm and blood. He groaned and kicked at the floor.

"Rebecca." he groaned through the waves of pain, turning his body to reveal a series of nasty open wounds. A large portion of his right arm was missing, and several gaping marks pocketed what remained of the muscle. The flesh surrounding the wounds was a shade of angry purple and ugly blue. A mixture of blood, pus, and a clear liquid dripped from the wound in thin threads.

"Snake..." he whispered. "Big...snn...nake."

Rebecca turned to Chris, a fierce determined look in her eyes.

"We need to move down him into the infirmary." she said, "I've seen some anti-venom on the shelves down there. Old but still viable."

Chris nodded, he knew what to do. He remembered his training in the Air Force, and the proper technique for the shoulder assist.

"I'll lift him, you cover us." Chris murmured, taking Richard in his arms and supporting his weakened legs. The man let out a pained hiss and nearly toppled over. His right arm had been rendered completely useless as a majority of it's tendons had been removed forcefully; it hung loosely against Chris' side. Chris winced at the feeling of Richard's warm blood spreading into and across the side of his shirt.

With one final glance, Chris turned to Rebecca.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" he said, "You're not going to choke if you need to shoot, right?"

She took in his words, and swallowed hard. She felt her throat tighten and ache as if someone were starting a buzz saw in the very pit of her throat.

"Yes..." she whispered. The tone was soft but firmly confident. She was tired and ached but she knew what she had to do.

**xxx**

They moved with a swift speed across the mansion's layout, with Rebecca as a the point-guard. She covered the front, moving in and scouting as Chris moved Richard in a firm support grasp. They had only run into a group of the creatures once.

In the hall above the dining room, on the overlooking balcony. Three of them looming in the stillness of the room; the grandfather clock clicking away down below. Rebecca had spotted them upon entry, and had moved in.

She rose her pistol and fired at one of them, grazing it's neck causing an arterial spray to coat the wallpaper to the left of the monster. It croaked a watery moan, but ignored the wound. She fired again, wincing at the recoil but managing to strike the creature in the forehead.

One of the remaining creatures had moved in, and managed to grab Rebecca who kept it at bay by leaning it over the railing and lining her shot up with it's lower jaw. She fired only once, and let the thing fall to the dining room below, where it sprawled across the tiled flooring. The last remaining monster slowly shambled forward on a broken ankle, snarling at the sight of the young girl.

She approached the creature, aiming for it's head and slowly fired. It fell limp before her, and she sighed in relief. It was a hollow sigh, filled with sorrow and pain but also made her feel slightly more confident in her own survival skills. She signaled for Chris to come, and they were quick to make their way down to the small infirmary. She pushed the thoughts of death and pain from her mind, focusing on the task on hand.

**xxx**

The wounds had been much worse than Rebecca had thought, now that she had sliced off Richard's shirt revealing his torso. The wounds were now consistently leaking out pus and venom, and his entire right side had gone numb. Even Richard's speech had slurred and he seemed to have gone into a daze.

Using the anti-venom off the shelves, Rebecca injected Richard with enough to cure whatever snake had bit him, however the damage done was permanent. She treated the pain by using several injections of anti-inflammatory drugs and painkillers, leaving Richard in a state of sleep which allowed her to speak freely to Chris.

"His wounds..." she sighed, wiping Richard's blood off her hands using a small sink nearby. She failed to notice the small stain of blood on her cheek in the mirror. "His wounds are critical."

Chris sat down on the cot where they settled Richard down, and glared at his dying friend. Rebecca couldn't read what what was going across his mind, but felt that they shared a likeness of emotions. Sorrow, pain, even regret.

"How long?" Chris whispered, his voice cold and hoarse.

"With the amount of blood he has lost, as well as the tissue damage cause d by the venom...he'll die within the hour..."

A hiss of air escaped from Chris' lips, and the rage boiled over. He kicked a waste bucket into a corner, startling Rebecca into a small jump.

"Goddamn it!" he roared, "We were so close..."

"There was nothing we could've done, Chris." Rebecca murmured, "We were already too late to save him. This bite is several hours old. He was a dead man before we even found him." She felt her tears return and no longer protested them.

Chris felt himself sink. He cupped his hands over his face and felt his cheek grow hot with his own tears. He inhaled deeply, and wiped away his tears, not wanting Rebecca to see him in this state.

"Is there..." he said, "...anyway to let this be painless?"

Rebecca turned to him sharply, her eyes wandered in his. Her lips parted, as if she were going to protest what he had implied, but she realized the bare truth in his question. Richard would die in a tormenting stupor of pain if nothing had been done. But there was something she could do for that.

She silently nodded, and returned to the medical supply shelf where she quickly combined a lethal combination that would dull the pain, and render Richard unconscious before his heart would slowly stop beating. A quick, painless end.

She hovered over Richard, who dozed softly clutching his shredded arm in his heavy drug-aided sleep. The syringe trembled in her hands, she felt no strength or willpower to move it, to forcefully remove this man's life. Chris moved behind her, cupping her shoulder and she felt him tremble with her.

The syringe delivered it's payload, and together, Chris and Rebecca watched in a thick silence as Richard's breathing slowly progressed to nothing. His chest paused in mid-breathe, and a small choked gargle escaped from Richard's lips before he fell into the last stage of death.

Rebecca's muffled sobs into Chris' shoulder broke the silence between them. Somewhere out in the distance, a dog howled to the lonesome moon concealed in the dull twilight glow.


	7. Battle In The Attic

**RESIDENT EVIL**  
**THE ARKLAY MOUNTAIN INCIDENT**  
**Chapter Six – Battle In The Attic**

* * *

"I can't do this..."

Rebecca had broken the silence between her and Chris, as they peered over the remains of their fallen comrade, who now laid in a hastily fashioned covering; Rebecca had sewn the bed spread together over the body.

Chris had done nothing to calm, he knew nothing could be done. Not anymore. Any small thread of remaining hope had died when they found Richard in that passage. He was one of them, a teammate and he was dead. A lot of them were dead. There was nothing Chris could do...

...so he sat and recollected his composure.

"Alright," he said coldly, "I understand..."

He rose the shotgun and checked the chamber. Primed, and with six other shells ready in the breast pocket of his tactical vest.

"You can wait here." Chris added, "I'll go on ahead and find us a way out to the dorms. Maybe, we'll find survivors there."

"You know..." Rebecca's voice sounded strange, no longer bright but weak and trembling, "The way this night is going, I don't think there will any..."

He wanted to reply, to dissolve the aura of her comment but his words died at his lips. Instead, he could only murmur.

"Stay put."

He left the young girl behind in the safety of the small medical supply room, and wandered back upstairs. In the back of his mind, he thought about her. What she had seen, taken part in. She was only just blooming into a young woman, and had already seen so much death. Even if she and Chris survived the night, the aftermath would be disastrous. They might escape, but the horrors would remain. Forever burned in the darkness of their eyelids, present whenever they closed their eyes.

For the first time, Chris had realized that he was winding down. His muscles ached, and he felt his core burning. The surge of adrenaline was falling, and he felt exhaustion catching up with him. He groaned, and shifted the weight of his vest and stiffened. He was getting tired.

Sleep was out of the question, he would sleep when he was dead or back in Raccoon City.

**xxx **

Chris had returned to the corridor where they had discovered Richard, now empty say for the drying puddle of Richard's blood in the corner.

He progressed to the far end of the L-shaped hallway where he entered an entirely new area of the mansion. Here the walls were barren, with several visible patches of the house's ancient woodwork. Cobwebs dominated the air, and the wind whispered through the cracks in walls; sounding as if the house itself were speaking. Chris' mind, however, was not on the hallway itself but the battered door that rested at the far end.

Constructed of cheap wood, the door led into what Chris believed to be an attic storeroom. Someone had written a small passage on the wall beside the door in blood.

* * *

**DEADMAN'S PASSAGE**

_PETER HAD THE MOON, BUT THE SNAKE GOT HIM FIRST._

* * *

Ascending the small flight of stairs leading up the door, Chris entered the attic, finding the air to be humid and uncomfortable hot. Inside, the room was wide and full of discarded materials. Rugs, wardrobes, a scientific mannequin, as well as a few shelves.

He moved slowly, watching his corners with an almost frantic paranoia. The room was lit by moonlight led in by a series of several small windows, but they warded the darkness only by so much.

The sound of the floor creaking as something rolled over it made Chris jump. One of the mannequins was disturbed and stumbled over onto a small glass case that shattered in an explosion of sound. A droning hiss came from the darkness.

Chris stood his ground, shotgun ready. He was determined to find the bastard that killed Richard.

"Come out," Chris taunted, "I've got something for you."

He felt insane, speaking out to whatever mindless creature slid around in the darkness before him. He was brash and bold, but it didn't matter to him anymore. He just wanted the night to end...

Two large eyes appeared in the darkness, cold and black. They glimmered in the moonlight, like doll's eyes. It approached Chris, revealing more of itself. He felt himself tense, and he felt reality crashing back.

_A snake. As large as a mini-van._

Fear and panic, caused the man to rise the shotgun and fire. The sound was deafening in the close quartered, but delivered a punch to the snake. Blood and gore splattered the small loft, the snake's right eye was reduced to a pulsating pulp of gore and matter.

A bloodcurdling shriek rose from the snake, as it fought off the battle, wiping clear the room of most objects with a single wave of it's massive body. Chris froze, realizing that the beast stood between him with very little in-between now.

It lunged at him, but Chris avoided it's jaws with a combat roll. It moved with such speed that it was difficult to keep away from it's massive fangs and powerful jaws.

It came for him but Chris defended, placing his feet at the snake's bottom jaw while pressing away with both hands around it's fangs. The creature was strong, but was matched with Chris at the moment. His strength was fleeting and he had to do something...

He eyed the bookshelf standing upright beside them, and immediately went into action. He swiftly kicked away from the beast, and kicked at the base of the shelf toppling it over onto the snake. Glass and debris collapsed on top of the serpent and Chris unloaded several shells onto the monster. It hissed, and whimpered; retreating from the clutter and into what appeared to be a large hole leading into the very guts of the house.

Victoriously, Chris roared with nervous laughter shaking the shotgun in his hands. He felt his exhaustion peel away and the adrenaline come surging back. He discovered a corpse, most likely the man referred to in the small passage, and examined the remains. Dressed in the all-too-common researcher uniform, the man seemed to be clutching a tablet similar to the one that Barry had found earlier.

A moon engraved on it's face.

**xxx**

_Somewhere, deep in the very rotten depths of the mansion grounds, the man watched closely to the wall of monitors before him. He did not smile or frown, but watched intently. _

_He shifted over to the next camera and watched the girl as she slept on the small bench in the medical supply room. She shook in her slumber as if frightened by a nightmare. _

_He sat in silence, and thought to himself. This was proving to be rather difficult, but also very revealing in the quality of his work. That was pleasant. _

"_Well done..." he murmured, his voice cold and hollow in the dampness that surrounded him. _

"_But we still have much work to do, now."_


End file.
